


Risk

by WhyAreAllThePenNamesTaken



Series: Fallen Angels [3]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-04-22 07:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14303586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyAreAllThePenNamesTaken/pseuds/WhyAreAllThePenNamesTaken
Summary: Kensi and Deeks meet up to discuss the case and find a body, leading the OSP into the world of finance.





	1. The Body

Kensi was running through the woods in Topanga State Park. Not a new route, but also not one she's used in a few weeks. Her feet were pounding the dirt track and, even as she kept one eye on the roots of the trees that lined the path, she once again reconsidered what she was doing. It was close to the line, possibly even over it, but she knew it was necessary, and her CI was the only one who could get it done. She was keeping this from her team, but she wasn't required to file any paperwork yet. She wasn't paying her CI and they were only in the preliminary information gathering stages, no chance of a warrant.

But at some point she would have to confess to Granger and Callen and Sam and Eric and Nell. And they would not be happy.

Her CI was waiting at the top of the hill, having run up the other side.

"Are you wearing a fanny pack?"

"Bro sack," said Deeks.

"Whatever."

"Hey Kens." Monty was at his feet, and quickly ran over to join her. His owner was close on his heels. Deeks took the hand that wasn't stroking Monty in his and ran his thumb over the back of her palm. Even that small contact unleashed a new wave of desire. It had been three months.

"You okay?"

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you too." Monty barked. "And you too," she said to the mutt.

"Well you could always call me again," Deeks said as a smile spread over his face.

"I might just do that." They stood there for a few seconds, grinning like the fools they were.

"I take it the sailor boys haven't given you anything new."

"No, do you know where the drugs went?"

"No, Alain handles that side with his own team, I'm not involved. Besides, it's all in the veins of the mentally ill by now."

"Anything else in the works?"

"Rumours, but it's been mostly quiet."

Do you think they smell a rat after the drug shipment went sour?

"Thornhill's smart, but for him it’s about taking revenge on the man who wronged him. He wouldn't be able to let it play if he thought I was a cop." Deeks paused. "I could always testify against them for the drugs, we'd have them on importation."

"Deeks, you were a defence attorney. You've cross-examined enough dirty cops to know that they don't have any credibility." She saw the look on his face. "Oh, I didn't mean-."

"I know what you meant."

"We have to build a case that doesn't rely on your word alone."

"Well I'm inside the circle now, and Thornhill is going to need weapons if he wants to take down Muscov. There's something there."

"There is, and we're going to get them."

"You don't know that."

"Like you said, someone has to investigate these guys. No other agency will."

"So we're an agency now?"

"M.O.U.S.E.," said Kensi with a smile. Remembering earlier times, Deeks smiled back.

"They have no idea who you they're dealing with."

"No they do not."

"Well yeah, but I also meant that they had no idea NCIS existed until they heard you were working with the DEA."

"Oh, Sam and Callen are going to love that."

The former bomb dog started nosing around in the underbrush. "Monty, come back here," said Deeks. The two walked over. A man, early thirties in the remains of a business suit, had been dumped in the bushes beside the trail like an empty soda can.

"Go, I'll call it in," Kensi said. Deeks looked torn. "Go."

*

Sam and Callen made their way up the trail towards the crime scene. Deeks was proving difficult to find.

"You checked the Blue Room?" Sam asked.

"I've been in the Blue Room every night this week, which Joelle finds exhausting by the way, he's not going there," Callen said.

"Eric says he's cashed out his bank accounts and his phone hasn't been active in nearly three months."

"And he's not at Kensi's?"

"Not unless he's going in and out through the bathroom window."

"If I didn't know better I'd say he's left town."

"Or worse," Sam said. "Eric wants to tell Nell."

"She'll tell Kensi."

"Have you considered that maybe Kensi knows exactly where he is?"

"Then why hasn't she told us?"

"We all have things that we work on, on our own, until we think it’s worth getting the others involved."

Callen couldn't argue with that.

A half dozen LAPD officers, detectives and forensic techs were milling around a body. Kensi was standing near the body in running gear. Rose Shwartz was crouched over, inserting a probe into the man's lower back.

"What have we got?"

"Deceased is a male in his early thirties. Cause of death is a single GSW to the back of the head, with two additional GSWs to the back of the chest that would have proved fatal. He was shot somewhere else and dumped here last night," said Kensi.

"Around 1am from liver temp," agreed Rose. "How do you know he was dumped? I haven't gotten his clothes off yet."

Kensi pointed at the bushes around them. "No blood spatter."

"Hmm, touche."

"Who is he?" Callen asked.

"No wallet or ID in his pockets, he had a watch, but it's gone," said Kensi.

"Not likely to be a robbery gone wrong though," said Sam.

"Why? asked Rose.

"When a thief kills a guy by accident, 99 times out of a hundred, he panics and runs for his life. This was most likely a hit," said Callen.

"Then why didn't they bury the body?"

"Good question."

"Oh oh," said Rose.

"What?"

"His Holiness is coming." The trio looked at her bewildered. "Captain Pope, head of Robbery Homicide."

"He going to be a problem."

"He's interested in keeping the clearance rate up, even if that means dumping cases on someone else."

"Terrific."

"Good morning Rose."

"Good morning Captain. Not every day I see you out here."

"Not every day federal agents try to muscle in on one of my crime scenes." He turned to G. "You mind telling me what you're doing here, Agent…"

"Callen, Agent Blye found the body."

"Who's he?" Pope asked of Rose.

"John Doe, cause of death is ballistic trauma to the head and chest."

"Shit."

"Who's the primary?"

"Mahone got the call."

"Terrific."

"If your detective will take Agent Blye's statement, we'll be on our way," said Callen.

"Oh you found it, you own it, Agent Callen."

"We're only here for our agent, not your dead body, homicides are LAPD's wheelhouse."

"This one's navy." Rose had gotten John Doe's shirt open. "Gregory Peck, United States Navy."

Pope smiled. "Your case, Agent Callen."

*

"Max." Deeks turned to see Thornhill standing at the fence.

"Listen Ernie-."

"Ernest."

"Ernest, sorry. If this is about some work, I've got three pickups to make so I need to get moving."

Ernest made a dismissing motion to Max's co-workers. They left. "From now on you don't need to show up here. I have another job for you, a postion in our collections and security wing. You'll report to Graeme."

Deeks had to suppress a smile. "Alright, what is it?"

"Dealing with people who can't keep their word. Graeme will fill you in on the details."

"That's it?"

"Forgive me Max but if I briefed everyone on their assignments, I wouldn't have time to decide what those assignments were. Graeme is at the investigations offices. Now, I have to go make some calls." Thornhill headed to a beat up Toyota. Deeks noted the licence plate before heading to his own car.

*

Kensi dropped by her house to change into work clothes, then went to the Mission.

"What do we have?"

"Peck graduated from UC Berkeley his Master's thesis was in modelling social outcomes in crisis situations, served six years in the Navy as an intelligence analyst. Sam and Callen went by his apartment, found business cards for Baylor Zimm, a stock brokerage in east LA," said Nell.

"His hard drive and tablet were missing, but I'm working on getting access to his cloud," said Eric.

"In the meantime, Agent Blye, take Agent Jones to Baylor Zimm. Find out what you can." Kensi didn't want or need a babysitter, but she also didn't want to insult her friend.

Fortunately, Granger stepped in."Get you gear Jones, Agent Blye if you have a minute." Kensi followed Granger to the other side of the bullpen. "This isn't a criticism of your performance, but no one goes anywhere alone. And Nell needs the field experience."

Kensi nodded as Nell came back down the stairs.

"Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome.


	2. The Firm

The drive to Baylor Zimm was filled with shop talk and techno music. When they arrived at Baylor Zimm, the conversation turned to other things.

"How are our boys doing?"

"You sure someone isn't listening?"

"I don't think that Eric would bug our phones."

"And Hetty?"

"I have found that is best to proceed on the assumption that Hetty knows everything we know and then some at all times." Nell looked slightly troubled. Kensi supposed that was a little too pointed.

"They're still looking for Deeks. Eric ran another check through kaleidoscope and the DMV. How does he manage to stay off it by the way?

"Urban evasion course for professional development, Sam's counter surveillance training."

"Well, they're not giving up."

"Yeah. Sam has been camped outside my house all week."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Its best for you if you don't know."

"If I don't know I can't help you when it all hits the fan."

Kensi didn't have an answer for that. Fortunately, they were at the front door.

They were greeted by a twenty-something receptionist.

"I'm Agent Blye, this is Agent Jones, NCIS, we're here in regard to Gregory Peck."

"I'm sorry, he hasn't come in today."

Kensi paused. She really hated this part. "I'm sorry, Mr Peck was killed last night."

The receptionist paused for a full five seconds. "Oh, uh I'll call, uh, his supervisor is Jennifer Gates." The poor girl was in shock. Kensi wanted to reach out, but she had a job to do and if the receptionist was off-balance, then she was more likely to tell the truth.

"Did you know him?"

"Greg and I were friends, we'd go out with some of the analysts and the staff, a few traders who don't have too much of an ego."

"There are traders without egos?" Nell asked.

The girl, Kimberly from her name tag, let out a strangled laugh. "No, just ones that were bearable."

"Kimberly, why don't you call Greg's boss."

"Is he in some sort of trouble?"

"No ma'am, he was killed last night."

"Oh, oh my."

"Why don't we go somewhere more private." Someone, she was pretty sure it was Callen, had said that you should never let suspects stay together. And right now everyone was a suspect.

"How was Mr Peck's relationship with his colleagues."

"He got along well with everyone."

"Everyone liked him?"

"A cliché, I know, but he was a good guy, was right a lot but didn't let it go to his head too much."

"Any family?"

"His parents live in San Francisco I think. No wife, no kids, fortunately." The supervisor paused. "Oh god, that doesn't make it any better at all."

"Why don't we head down to his desk," Kensi said.

"Greg worked in our risk management division. He mostly performed analysis of our investments to ensure that we weren't too exposed to any shift in the market."

"How does that work?"

"I honestly don't know."

"That reassuring."

"I've never heard that one before." They came to a stop in one of the rows at the far end of the room. "This was his desk."

"We'll need to take his computer."

"Of course. We are always happy to comply with any investigation." Which meant they'd been investigated before.

"Had Mr Peck ever been in any trouble before?"

"Gregory would never be involved in anything illegal. He was honest to a fault. You can take the boy out of the Navy, I guess."

Gates pulled a card out of her pocket and wrote a number on the back left handed. "If you find out what happened to Greg or if you need anything else, please give me a call."

*

Deeks walked into the fourth storey building. At the desk was a blonde receptionist in a black skirt suit and pink blouse, tasteful cleavage. He was still a man with a pulse. He also noticed how her hand went under the desk, probably a .45 pointed directly at his groin.

"Max Gentry, I have an appointment with Graeme Partridge."

The young lady, Emily by her nametag, checked the diary sitting open on the desk. "Of course, Mr Gentry. I'll call someone down." She picked up the phone.

A blazered guard with a shoulder holster soon appeared. Deeks was escorted past a spinlock door where another guard had taken his phone and run a metal detector over his entire body. He was led through a small nest of desks, up a set of stairs, passed through another spinlocked door and through another bull pen to a corner office.

Graeme stood as he entered and nodded to one of the seats in front of his desk. The other was occupied by one of the men who had been following him a few weeks before.

"Don't think we ever got a chance to be introduced, I'm Kevin."

"If you'd come a little closer we might have been able to get to know each other better." Deeks sat forward in his seat and pushed his chest out slightly. Max was a prickly and hostile man who jumped at a chance to prove his worth with his fists.

"Well, I would have, but the only time I tried, you shoved a gun in my face." The man wasn't going to be intimidated.

Partridge intervened. "Simmer down. Kevin, keep on her, we need to clean this up."

"On it." Kevin got up and headed out.

When the door was closed, Graeme turned to Deeks. "As you probably saw on the way in, Private Investigations is a functioning business. We handle your standard finding people, catching cheating husbands. We also handle some local political stuff. But Private also shelters our security wing."

"You sure that's a good idea? It gives the cops a virtual members list."

"The guys have to be paid. And the more serious stuff isn't run out of here." Which explained the guys at the money warehouse, and it was not like Partridge would be claiming bribes as a business expense. "At the moment, it’s just collections, which is what you'll be dealing with today, but also intelligence. In a week or so, I want you to put it out there that we'll pay big cash for any information whatsoever. Cops, other gangs, whoever. We also need weapons, but intelligence is the key."

"I'll talk to people."

"Today's job is a bit more basic. We gave a guy some product, he was supposed to give us money."

"And he didn't."

"No integrity these days. The kid's name is Marcellus Wallace." Partridge paused. "Say it, get it out of your system."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Deeks.

Partridge smiled. Then handed him the address. "It’s not about the money, it's about sending a message."

"Now you're just mixing your metaphors."

"Just make sure he doesn't do it again."

"On it."

“Now, I have to make some calls.” Deeks remembered what Ernest had said less than an hour earlier. He saw Partridge pick up a list of numbers, next to each were a word and a string of numbers. About two thirds of the lines had been crossed out. Deeks noted the first two lines, then turned and walked out.

*

Callen and Sam were driving back to the Mission. Callen couldn’t help but notice that Sam was taking longer than usual. Then he saw the same convenience store from a few minutes earlier. A heat run, a really long one.

"You do realise the drug bust went wrong because there's a mole in LAPD."

"Or DEA."

"So why the long way home?"

"We've been getting sloppy. Letting people in we shouldn't, getting into routines. We can't keep going the way we are."

Callen wasn't entirely certain that Sam was just talking about security protocol. He was about to reply when the phone rang. "What is it Eric?"

"We received a call from the FBI financial crimes division. They want to meet to discuss our interest in Baylor Zimm."

"Direct them to the boatshed." Even if he was just talking about security, his partner was rarely wrong.

"Got it."

When Sam and Callen arrived at the marina, they sat for five minutes, waiting to see if someone else was following. When they got out performed a quick check of the area, looking for cameras and observers.

They wound up playing cards while they waited for the FBI's Agent to arrive.

When she did, she smiled. "This place isn't easy to find."

"That's the point of a safe house," said Sam.

"Agent Stephanie Platt, financial crimes."

Callen and Sam introduced themselves.

"You want to tell me why you're investigating Baylor Zimm."

Callen briefly considered holding out, but then thought better of it. There was no need to be a dick and Agent Platt seemed more likely to respond well to cooperation. "One of their risk analysts, a navy reservist, was shot and killed last night."

"Any leads?"

"The day is young. What's your interest?"

"There have been allegations of insider trading around the firm."

"I'm sure there are allegations around every firm."

"This isn't Baylor Zimm's first rodeo."

"Last time the traders closed ranks against us. This time we received an anonymous email and documents apparently from inside Baylor Zimm."

"A whistleblower?"

"One who wanted to keep their identity a secret."

"Sounds promising."

"Which was why I didn't want a bunch of black ops types rushing in and scaring my guy off. With respect, from what little I've been able to gather, you have a tendency to deal with things directly at the expense of the wider issues."

"Such as a career enhancing bust," said Sam.

"Such as a large firm involved in fraudulent financial activities which will continue long after you have moved on," said Agent Platt.

"Have you had any further contact with your informant?" Callen asked.

"No, and I've tried. I need her to get a warrant for Baylor Zimm's files."

"Her?"

"Figure of speech. Their digital trail dead ends in an internet cafe in Long Beach. No surveillance close by."

"Our victim had intelligence training. We have a possible motive."

"I'm glad. And if I can be of any assistance."

"You'll be the first person we call."

"Thank you."

*

"You okay?"

"Not my first dead body, are you?"

"I'm fine." Kensi knew what that meant, and that there was nothing she could do.

"His name was Gregory Peck. He worked in Naval Intelligence then as a risk analyst for Baylor Zimm."

"Never heard of them.

They're a second tier stock brokerage in east LA."

"I haven't heard anything. Though Partridge seemed pretty certain that Organisation was going to come into a lot of money soon."

"Could you find out more?"

"Thornhill has things set up with a cell structure. There's guys on the outside who know nothing, guys further in like me who know some, but only Thornhill and the guys who are really close to him know everything."

"It's going to be a tough nut to crack."

"It's going to require manpower, and an operation."

"We knew that going in."

"The others know about me?"

"I haven't told them yet."

"They're not going to be happy."

"They'll get over it."

"We need them. You have to tell them."

"I will tell them when we're ready."

"I'm ready now."

"I'm not. We need more."

"They're buying and distributing drugs, not to mention cops, and almost certainly weapons and we know who they are."

"It's all small time."

"Why do I get the feeling there's more going on here?"

"Come on Deeks, you know that Hetty will bounce this to LAPD and it won't get investigated. We need more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome.


	3. The Patsy

Callen looked up as Kensi walked into Ops. It wasn't like her to check out in the middle of the day, but then she had been acting weird lately.

"I checked through Peck's computer. On the surface there was nothing, but I checked the registry. Several files, all relating to Sunshine Desalination, were deleted."

"Sunshine Desalination is an R&D firm. Its stock price has increased by almost 800% in the last month," said Nell.

"Several leaks have suggested that the company is on the verge of a producing a major breakthrough," said Eric.

"Also, a risk assessor at Baylor Zimm, Peter Griffin, published a positive report on Sunshine Desalination. The buy frenzy started at Baylor Zimm, but it's since spread to other firms," said Nell.

"I don't suppose there's a way to find out if anyone brought a whole lot of stock just before the frenzy started," said Callen.

"Three companies: WTF Investments, Bacon Financial and FTC Capital all purchased significant stock holdings in the week before the issue of the report," said Nell.

"Who is behind them?"

"The companies are all directed by a lawyer and the address for service is Jenkins Corporate Services, a Wyoming company that incorporates other companies and then receives mail and acts in the name of the actual owner, shady but not illegal," said Eric.

"Barely," added Nell.

"Sam and I’ll go talk to Peter Griffin," said Callen. “Send the information to Agent Platt and her team.”

Kensi pulled Nell aside. "Keep looking into those companies. Is there some way to find out who's behind them without tipping them off?"

"If we had a warrant I could have Eric do a virtual sneak and peek, but we'd need probable cause."

"I'll look into it."

*

Sam and Callen drove out to Peter Griffin's house in Montecito Heights. He had gone home shortly after Kensi and Nell had left.

"Do you think he was just overwhelmed with emotion from the death of his colleague? Callen said.

"Well, I think he was overwhelmed by something," replied Sam.

"This is a nice house, and that's a $50,000 car in the driveway," said Sam. Griffin liked the high life, it could make him easy to exploit.

Callen pulled out his phone. "Eric, can you have Nell run Griffin's financials."

"She's on it."

"Do we have Griffin's phone number?"

"Yeah, Nell and Kensi got all the employee's numbers during their visit."

"Start a DNR, I want to know who he calls."

"On it."

"And see if you can't find out who he called before the murder."

"You want me to make your dinner while I'm at it."

"That'd be great."

Griffin answered the door almost as soon as Sam knocked.

After the pleasantries, Callen saw no reason not to cut to the chase. "Where did you get the tip about Sunshine Desalination?"

"A confidential source."

"Someone at Sunshine?"

"I have to protect identities." It seemed to Callen that the only person Griffin was protecting was himself.

"We don't care about insider trading, we care about murder. And we know the two things are connected."

"No comment."

"You really want to be arrested for obstruction?" Sam said, his voice hardening. Technically, Griffin couldn’t be charged with obstruction for refusing to answer, but there was no reason he needed to know that.

"You can prove that my source is germane to the investigation? Or that anything I’ve said is untrue?" Griffin had clearly been better briefed than they had anticipated.

"Mr Griffin, it's in your best interests to work with us."

"I have nothing more to say and I request that you ask any further questions through my lawyer."

Callen and Sam headed down the front steps.

"He knows," said Sam. "But he's not prepared to eat so much as a false statement charge for it. Then we'll run at him again."

"Yeah," Callen agreed. "We've shaken the tree. Let's see what comes loose."

*

Deeks sat on his motorcycle almost two blocks from Marcellus Wallace's main distribution point. He'd been sitting there for almost an hour just watching as people came and went. There was a vacant overlooking the court yard where James and John had been instructed to watch from. He could see the two men driving towards him now.

He leaned over as they pulled up alongside. "How many?"

"Twenty, mostly lookouts and touts and runners," said James. "There are three or four that might cause trouble, but only Wallace and the guy on the stash are armed."

"Good. Follow my lead."

 Deek started his motorbike and headed down the street towards the entrance while John made a u-turn to follow. Deeks stopped just short of the entrance and then walked in without looking back, though he could hear James and John get out of the car and follow him. Deeks walked up to the chief, brushing past two of his associates as he did so. For Max, appearance of confidence was just as important as substance.

"You owe us $10,000. Where is it?"

Marcellus Wallace looked at him, sizing him up, the made the mistake of assuming that Max was an idiot. The hair could have that effect on people. Which was part of the point. "Police came by and took it."

"Where's the evidence control number?"

"Excuse me?"

"When the police take your stuff, they create an evidence control number. You can get it. What is the number?"

Marcelus failed to come up with a witty retort. Instead, he drew and pointed a pistol, gangster style, at Deeks's face with his right hand.

It was the opening Deeks had been expecting. Deeks ducked and stepped to his left. He grabbed Wallace's wrist with his right hand and slammed his left palm into the dealers elbow, snapping it in the wrong direction. The dealer screamed and dropped the pistol to the ground. Deeks kicked the Wallace's knee so he dropped to his knees. Deeks delivered three quick punches to the dealer's face which put the dealer on his back. It took less than ten seconds. The crew were dumbfounded. Deeks' back up wasn't much better, but they recovered quickly enough that they were able to draw their own pistols - not gangster style, thank god - and cover the crew.

Deeks stood over the Wallace."Please," the dealer whimpered. Deeks shook a little inside, but he couldn't afford to appear weak, not now. Not ever.

"You have twenty four hours to get the cash to the drop, or I'll be back." He walked back towards his motorcycle. His confederates followed.

"He looked like a bitch," said one. Deeks balled his hands into fists, mainly to stop them from shaking.

"You two take the car back to the warehouse. I have another errand to run." He turned back towards his motorcycle.

"What?"

Deeks turned back. He was taller than the two men ordinarily, but with his chest spread and standing at his full height right in their faces, he towered over them. "Laundry, what's it to you?" Apparently it was nothing. Deeks got on his motorbike.

He made a series of quick turns and then pulled into an alley. He hopped off the bike and leaned against a wall. When he was satisfied that he hadn't been followed, he sank down and his feet slid away from the wall. He bent double with his hands on his knees and let out a shuddering breath.

"You are not your father," he whispered. That helped as much as it usually did.

*

Callen and Sam were heading back to the Mission, when Eric called. "Talk to me Eric."

"After you left, Griffin called a number, I ran a reverse directory search, its a burner cell. The call lasted four and a half minutes. I'm working on past calls for both numbers now.

"And the good stuff?"

"I managed to get the phone company to hand over Gregory Peck's phone meta data. Guess who his last two calls were with?"

"Peter Griffin."

"The one and only."

Callen turned to Sam. "Why do smart people always think that lying to us will get them anywhere?"

"Because they're stupid," said Sam as he pulled the Challenger into a u-turn.

"The calls were placed at around 7pm and then at about 12.30am the night Peck was killed."

"Thanks Eric."

*

Callen, Sam and Kensi stood in front of the screen in the boatshed.

"What occasions the call Agent Platt?"

"Whoever is behind the shell companies was using Baylor Zimm as a boiler room."

"How do you know that?" Callen asked.

"Because they just sold their stocks in Sunshine Desalination. The market is flooded with shares. The stock price is cratering."

"How much did Baylor Zimm have invested in Sunshine? How much did their clients?"

"Millions. And they're going to lose everything."

*

Sam and Callen walked into the interrogation room in the boat shed. "I didn't have anything to do with it," said Griffin.

"To do with what?" Sam asked.

"And would you like to explain the calls you made to Gregory Peck the night he was killed?" Callen asked.

"Or the call you made to a burner phone before we were even out the door."

"Or the fifty thousand dollars recently deposited in your bank account?"

"It's only a matter of time before we put this together on our own and when we do, you'll eat the whole meal."

"Okay look, I took the money she gave me and I wrote the report the way that she wanted it, but I never knew anybody was going to get hurt," said Peck, gesticulating as much as his cuffed hands would allow to emphasise his point.

"And you didn't see how luring him out in the middle of the night would be dangerous."

"When Greg srarted asking questions I called her, she said she'd handle it. A couple of nights later she told me to tell him I wanted to meet." Griffin shifted in his seat. "I did what I was told. I called Greg and then I went to a bar and got wasted."

"Who told you to make the call?"

"I can't, I mean, what if people found out? I know what they do to rats."

"You're going down for aiding a murder. You can do it in San Quentin or in Club Fed, whichever you want."

"Jennifer Gates."

Callen and Sam walked out of interrogation. Sam turned to Callen. "Jennifer Gates isn't strong enough to carry a body half way up a mountain."

"Nell, do we have anything on the front companies?"

"Yeah, the lawyer tried to stall until we explained that we had evidence that the companies were involved in a multi-million dollar stock fraud. The companies were incorporated on the orders of Jennifer Gates."

*

Kensi led the way through the door to Gates' apartment, shotgun raised. Nell was right behind her.

"Federal agents."

Kensi swept left to the glass which made up one entire wall of the apartment. The pair walked quickly up the corridor that led into the main room of the studio apartment. Gates was sitting on the couch facing away from the entrance.

Kensi covered Gates with shotgun. "Federal agents, hands in the air." Gates didn't move.

Nell speed walked over to the bathroom and disappeared inside briefly before returning. "Clear." She turned to cover Gates and then blanched and lowered her pistol.

Kensi walked around slightly. There was an entry wound in the side of Gates's head and a pistol in her right hand.

*

Kensi and Rose watched as two medics loaded Gates's body onto a gurney.

"It doesn't fit," said Kensi

"What doesn't fit?" Rose asked.

"Gates was middle management at a second tier brokerage. She doesn't have the connections or the capital to be the one behind something like this."

"Maybe she made the money from trades, she was a broker," said Rose.

"And she was left handed."

"I see where you're going, but you can't assume that someone who's suicidal is going to behave rationally."

Kensi headed after the medics. "Hold up." The medics stopped and Kensi pulled the body bag open. She pushed Gates' collar around until she found what she was looking for. "Look."

Rose stepped forward. "Puncture wound, looks to be too big for an insect bite. I'll run tests back at the lab. So who killed Gates and made it look like a suicide."

"I don't know." But she had an idea. "We need to tear this place apart."

*

Kensi followed Sam and Callen into the boat shed. Stephanie Platt was waiting.

When they were seated, Agent Platt began her presentation. "The money was same day cleared to a company in Houston called Capital Asset Management. It's owned and directed by Mr Graeme Egret." A map of the United States appeared on screen, with a single line reaching from LA to Houston. "By the time we knew that had happened and traced the account, the money had been sent offshore to the company's bank account in Panama." The map pulled out, and linked Houston to Panama. From there the money went to hundreds of different recipients. The one's we've identified so far are hawala brokers, currency exchanges and investment banks." Platt pulled up list of account numbers, their host countries and, where it existed, a name of the account holder. Kensi made a mental note to check the account numbers against the ones Deeks had given her.

"And from there?"

"Not one of the accounts is in the US. It would take months to trace the recipients and by then the money would be gone."

"Can we trace this Graeme Egret?"

"The registered office is a cubbyhole in Nevada. Graeme Egret came in exactly once to sign the incorporation documents. They didn't take ID because they're not required to."

"The Panamanians?"

"They've given us all the information that Panamanian law requires them to give. They asked the lawyer down there for a copy of this Egret's ID. It's so bad it could be my picture on there."

"Is it?" Callen asked.

Agent Platt laughed.

"We didn't find a burner in Gates' apartment or any paper relating to the front companies or Sunshine," said Sam. "Her computer hard drive and personal cell were taken. Whoever is behind these guys, they're thorough."

I've been ordered to hand the case over to OFAC to see what they can do about retrieving some of the money." Platt was referring to the Office of Foreign Asset Control in the Department of Treasury. "I'll keep on them, but I figured you could use the data too. I've shared our case files with your office."

"Thank you."

*

"Max, please sit." Deeks sat in the seat Partridge indicated. Marcellus Wallace had delivered the required funds less than twelve hours after Deeks had been to see him. Partridge picked up a piece of paper with more bank accounts and passwords on it. Before Deeks could catch a glance Partridge dropped it into a shredder.

"You look relaxed."

"There was a thing, with a guy." Deeks crooked an eyebrow. "It was a couple of guys. It's settled now."

"That's good to hear."

"From what I hear, you're a guy who knows how to bring people together."

"Yeah, mainly arms, some drugs."

"Do you know cops, feds?"

"I could probably put you in touch with some people who do."

"Put it out there that your employer will pay big cash for any information whatsoever. Our names do not get out on the street."

"We have the cash to back that up? If I go telling people things and I can't deliver-"

"I'm going to stop you there before you say something you'll regret when you wake up. As of this morning, the answer is yes. We have more than enough."

"I'll put it out there."

"Good, if you get anything, call this number." Partridge handed over a card with the letters HI and a phone number. "Ask for Mary Spalding. Put them together and they'll make the music."

"Yeah."

"Okay. Second thing, you know how to get guns?"

"I know people who can get them."

"Good." He reached down behind his desk and dumped a block of bills in front of Deeks. "Thats fifty grand. That's your street money for intel and guns. Put it out there that you're looking to buy serious hardware. I'll get back to you on specifics in a couple of days.

"On it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome.


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